


drinks after midnight

by allegedly_writing



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Drinking, F/F, Friendship, Late Night Conversations, M/M, Pining, post ep 120, post ep 132
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-19
Updated: 2020-05-19
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:34:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24263677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allegedly_writing/pseuds/allegedly_writing
Summary: “She resents me.” Daisy said, low but sudden. Jon blinked once, twice. He felt sluggish, like his mind and eyes were working at half the speed they were supposed to.“What?”“Basira. She resents me.”Jon and Daisy have some late night drinks in the office.
Relationships: Basira Hussain/Alice "Daisy" Tonner, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Comments: 12
Kudos: 153





	drinks after midnight

**Author's Note:**

> I have accidentally become obsessed with post-buried Daisy and her friendship with Jon so have this!

“D’you wanna drink?” 

Jon nearly rocketed out of his chair in surprise, the papers he was reading dropped to the ground. Daisy stood in the barely illuminated doorway, leaning against the frame with a bottle in one hand. He Knew she was straining to even stand up. 

“Daisy, it’s-it’s nearly midnight.” He said, retrieving the fallen statement and setting it on his desk. He was sleeping less and less recently, filling in the time with reading statements and not wishing he had a cup of tea. No, definitely not.

“So? You want it or not?” She responded, raising the bottle in offering. He considered for a moment. It wasn’t as though he was on drinking terms with Basira or Melanie, or, Martin. Maybe he could use a drink after all. 

Which is how he and Daisy ended up slumped against his far office wall, passing the bottle back and forth between them. It was a quiet affair, and in that quiet Jon took the time to really look at Daisy. 

Her hair was shorn down, Basira had done it for her after months in The Buried left Daisy’s hair long and matted with dirt. She was wearing the extra set of clothes she had stored away in the office but they were far too big now and hung off her frame. She was thinner than Jon had ever seen her, all hard edges and muscle gone and replaced with tight pale skin and bone. There was very little of her that compared to the Daisy he knew before the coffin. He didn’t know where that left them. 

“Where’d you even find this?” He asked as he held up the bottle. It was just cheap vodka, nothing special and not really his taste in all honesty. Still an unusual find for the communal archives fridge. 

“The fridge. Melanie said I could have it. Basira didn’t think I should but...” Daisy shrugged stiffly. Jon nodded and the pair lapsed back into another round of silence. It was probably Tim’s, Jon realized suddenly and was struck with the weight of that. He took another drink. Tim had sometimes stored things like that around, “for a special occasion.” he’d once said. Tim’s desk had been cleared out when Jon had come back. So had Martin’s. Before he could dwell on that any longer. 

“She resents me.” Daisy said, low but sudden. Jon blinked once, twice. He felt sluggish, like his mind and eyes were working at half the speed they were supposed to. 

“What?” 

“Basira. She resents me.” Daisy didn’t look at Jon when she said it, instead staring at the opposite wall. But Jon could tell by the tight coil of her shoulders and back that she was serious, upset even. 

“What’d you-

“She’d gotten used to the idea I was dead.” Daisy kept talking. “Now that I’m not she doesn’t know what to do with me.” Jon thought of Martin, his avoidance after Jon had returned, the growth of a rift he never expected. He understood what Daisy meant. He really wanted that cup of tea now. 

“I’m sorry.” He said quietly, feeling sluggish and useless. Ironically Daisy was the only one who he didn’t feel resented him at the moment. Not that he could even fully blame them. He’d gotten to come back. Tim hadn’t, Daisy hadn’t until a few days ago. Privately he wondered if any of them would ever stop hating themselves and the others for coming back. 

“Not your fault. More my fault really. I can’t have her back like before.” Jon had nothing to say to that. He remembered the two of them before, like two moving parts of a machine. Together. Coordinated. In sync. Clearly two people with more history than he could ever know. Suddenly he Knew. 

“You love her, don’t you?” She whipped around to stare at him and he saw a glimpse of who she used to be, all anger and sharpness and tension ready to snap. But there’s a defensiveness there he hadn’t seen before. 

“Don’t look in my head.” She snapped. 

“Sorry. It was rather obvious though.” He grumbled. She didn’t look very pleased at that and let out a sharp, barking laugh. 

“Yeah well, I guess you’d know. Martin hasn’t been around lately has he?” He winced a little at that, even if he wouldn’t admit it. 

“I miss him.” It spilt out before he had a chance to contain it. It was different than missing Tim. Tim’s absence hurt like an old wound, something closed but still present. Martin though. Having him around and yet so far away stung a whole different way. It was his own fault. For pushing him away before, for being gone so long. Martin no longer knew what to do with him. 

“I know.” Daisy snorted humorlessly before taking another, deeper drink. “Look at us. Pathetic.” 

“Have you thought about -” Jon started. 

“Telling her? Yeah. Have you?” Her question caught him off guard. He was used to asking the questions, and his mind slowly absorbed what she was really asking. 

“What?” 

“Told him.” She said simply. He breathed and closed his eyes. There were two questions there, buried underneath each other, but he knew the answer to both of them. 

“No.” 

“Then we understand each other.” There was nothing he could really say to that and he wasn’t going to push it, or his tentative peace with Daisy, any further. She set the bottle on the floor and leaned back heavily against the wall, closing her eyes. 

“Why are you doing this? Being kind to me, talking to me?” She gave him a sharp glance and he shut his mouth, not wanting to face her anger if he compelled her again. She still answered though. 

“You saved my life. Figured I owed you a chance.” He nodded, feeling oddly touched at that. He imagined even a scrap of her vulnerability was something few people ever saw. 

“Thank you.” She didn’t answer. They passed the rest of the night in peaceful, borderline companionable silence until Daisy stood, bottle in hand, and left. 

They weren’t going to speak about it the following morning, Jon knew. But he would remember, and that was enough.


End file.
